


The limbo in living

by hyperius



Series: To Learn to Live [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Emotional Hurt, Good Slade Wilson, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Protective Slade Wilson, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, at least good for jason, nobody dies tho, sort of good ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28902663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperius/pseuds/hyperius
Summary: Jason was tired. He was tired of hurting, tired of fighting, and tired of his so-called family waiting for him to fail. So, he's decided he's going to take matters into his own hands and fix the mistake he made when he crawled out of his grave.Fortunately, not everyone agrees with his decision.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Slade Wilson
Series: To Learn to Live [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119680
Comments: 35
Kudos: 287





	The limbo in living

**Author's Note:**

> Pls see the warnings in the tags before reading!

Jason really was starting to believe he was part of the family again. He really started to believe his family could - if not forgive - move on from his past sins and welcome him home. He really believed Dick when he called Jason his brother, and Bruce when he called Jason his son.

He really believed Bruce when the man told him he was glad Jason was alive.

Jason should have known better, though. He should have known better than to believe the lies his so-called family spilled; the sweet words and seductive promises tinged with Lazarus green and spiteful deceit. He should have known better than to believe in the promises of their love, embracing his heart like a comforting hug before turning into a raging flame that left nothing behind but a burnt and broken soul. He should’ve known better than to believe he could have a good life, a loving family, a... anything.

His name is Jason Todd, and the universe hates him. His name is Jason Todd, and he shouldn’t have come back to life. The whole world seemed to agree he was better off dead, so who is he to argue them?

He slumped onto his couch, his normally blue eyes were dulled over and glazed green, body trembling from a mix of pain and adrenaline. He didn’t bother to wipe away the blood from his split lip or wrap his fractured rib. He wanted to feel them. He wanted to feel them and remember the parting gift from his father and brother. He wanted, needed, to remember the sting of their false accusations; accusing him of a murder he never committed and punishing him of a crime they wished he did.

Bruce and Dick were just waiting for him to fall, never realizing that they were the offenders who cut the wires of his trapeze.

Trembling fingers brought the whiskey to his lips, and he allowed the alcohol to wash through him and numb the thoughts yelling at him to _live_. He’s tried living, but he’s never managed to get past surviving. He’s tired of surviving, feeling as if he’s trapped in a limbo between a real life and death. As it is, death just happens to be easier.

However, because he is Jason Todd, not even his second death could be simple. He never wanted to be alone, sober or intoxicated, but usually he was able to control himself. Intoxicated, and grieving, he doesn’t want to control himself anymore - he died alone once, and he didn’t want it to happen again.

He pulled out his phone, tears dripping onto the screen as he tried to think of who to call, think of who would pick up.

Anyone within the batfamily is off the table, of course. They would probably encourage him to swallow the pills; make him feel more alone than when he’s by himself. He doesn’t want to hear their relief when he takes his last breath, or feel their smile as he passes over. No, no. He can’t handle that.

Roy asked for space after their last argument, and he can’t find it in himself to break that request. He loves Roy, he respects him, and so he’s determined to listen to him. Not just listen, but listen to him _properly_ , which means giving him the space he’s asked for. 

He can’t trust Kori not to go to Dick, so she’s off the table. Artemis and Bizarro are... also off the table. Which leaves no one. No one. Jason really has no one. 

He’s completely alone.

A broken sob wracked through his body as he curled in on himself, hiding his head between his knees as he tried to contain his oppressive sorrow. He won’t be able to do it, if he’s alone. He doesn’t want to die alone again - he can’t, so he has to find someone, anyone -

Oh, that’d work. A man he has a mutual respect with. He trained with him, after all, and for a bit they even worked together. Sure, the old man will always prefer Dickie over him (who doesn’t?), but Jason’s sure he’d be willing to lend an ear in his dying moments.

Jason quickly dialed him up, and it didn’t take but two rings before he heard the gruff voice of Slade Wilson on the other side.

“What do you want, kid?” Slade could hear a sniff on the other side of the phone, and he immediately knew something was wrong, “Kid?”

“Hey,” Jason took another sip of his whiskey, feeling his heart pounding, “I just didn’t want to be alone right now.”

“And that’s my problem because...?”

“I had no one else.”

“You’re not making sense,” Slade plugged his phone into his computer, starting the tracking sequence to get the boy’s location. Something was wrong, and he’s determined to find out what. Besides, he knows the Golden Boy would be pissed with him if he let something happen to his brother. And, on a more personal note that he’d deny till the day he died, he wanted to help the kid. He grew fond of Jason when he was training him, so he didn’t want to see the kid _too_ hurt when he could help.

But he certainly wasn’t worried.

“I’m tired, Slade. I’m so tired of being alone, and I’m tired of everyone waiting for me to fuck up or fail. I’m tired of being accused of things I never did and- and the fighting. The hope just being ripped away and - and the pain. God, I’m so tired of the pain. It hurts so much...”

Slade had a feeling Jason wasn’t talking about physical pain, and now he was worried. The computer dinged with Athena coordinates, and Slade quickly moved the call to his comm unit as he got onto his bike and took off on road, breaking every traffic law possible to get to Jason in time, “Ok. So what are you going to do?”

He could practically see Jason’s small, resigned smile over the call, “I’m going to fix the mistake I made when I crawled out of my grave. I’m going to sleep. Permanently.”

“Kid, Jason, no. That’s a horrible idea.”

“No, no! It’s good. It’s a good idea. Bruce wished I never came back to life. Dick does... Alfred probably does. I do too. I died, I should’ve stayed dead,” Jason’s voice softened, “Death hurt so much less than this.”

Slade could hear the resignation in Jason’s voice. He could hear how the boy has given up. He could hear the _pain_. He’s wondered how nobody has noticed it before.

Ten minutes out. It’s still too long. He revved the engine, willing the bike to go faster, “Jason,” he didn’t know what to say. For all he was trained to do, he was only trained to kill. He was never trained to keep someone alive, “I’ll help you, if you don’t do this. You won’t have to be alone.”

He heard a tired chuckle, one void of humor and life before Jason spoke again, “I wouldn’t burden you like that. Neither of my dads wanted me, so why would you?” Slade had to bite his lip to keep himself from screaming. The pain in his voice was so raw and so fresh. He wondered if his own sons felt this way about him - and he swore. No son deserved to feel this way about their dad. Not his own kids, and not Bruce’s. He was going to save ~~Grant~~ Jason. He won’t let him die. _Not again._

He heard Jason swallow something and Slade’s eyes widened a fraction, “Jason, what did you do?” But he knew. He knew what Jason did and it made his heart sink in his chest. He was close, though. He was close enough that the building was in sight and he didn’t dare slow down.

“Thank you for talking to me, before I...” he sighed, “It was nice. Not being alone this time,” his voice began to slur, and Slade jumped off his bike without a care for how it crashed, taking stairs two at a time to make it to Jason in time. The boy kept talking, though, his words mumbling as his conscious began to fade, “Tell everyone s’rry... I came back. Ruin’d ever’thing,” Jason couldn’t keep his eyes open, not even when the door burst off his hinges, “G’nna f’n’lly doin’ s’methin’ r’ght.”

The slow movements of Jason’s chest came to a halt as his breaths no longer forced the gentle rise and fall of his lungs. Slade nearly froze seeing it, but he knew time was of an essence. He couldn’t stop for even a moment, or else he risks losing Jason. He doubts the boy has enough luck to come back a third time 

Reviving someone was never pretty. It’s never the romanticized, dramatic moments displayed in movies. No, it was hard, it was brutal, and it was gross. It was sticking two fingers down the boy’s throat to force him to puke up the contents of the bottle; it was compressions against his chest hard enough to fracture bone, and it was tears and snot and damning curses against everyone who pushed the kid towards his own demise.

It was a silent prayer besides Jason’s make-shift hospital bed, hoping he did enough. It was a promise to the universe, to protect the boy when he wakes and ensure Jason realizes how valuable his life really is.

It was tears when the boy woke, confusion peaking through the little cries as he didn’t yet know whether to thank or curse his savior. It was pain, and regret, and a numb dissociation as their new reality took hold.

It was hacking into the Batcave, determination glinting in his singular eye as he blasted the recorded call between himself and Jason through the speakers of the cave, the conversation echoing on a loop and a damning message blinking across the screen of the Batcomputer:

_Congratulations, Batman, on your first kill._

Neither Slade or Jason were able to hear the broken screams echoing throughout the cave, nor the desperate clacking against the keyboard of the computer in an attempt to stop the horrendous loop. They didn’t hear the accusations fly between heart wrenching sobs, and they didn’t hear the fall of an old grandfather, unable to find his strength to stand. They didn’t hear the tears, the cries, the pleas or the prayers.

They were absent during the manhunt caused by a grieving father in rightful denial. They were absent during the funeral - both funerals: the public one of Red Hood and the private one of Jason Wayne. They were absent during the fall of the Bats, everyone blaming each other and no one daring to take responsibility for such a tragedy. No one dared, but no one could deny the guilt that consumed their heart when they were too tired to deny their part in Jason’s death.

_If only they knew_ , Slade thought, Jason tucked into his side as the movie played on the tv, a small and wicked smile across his face, _If only they knew._

**Author's Note:**

> Slade may be good sometimes, but he's certainly not a moral character.  
> But who thinks Bruce and the others deserved his little revenge?


End file.
